


The Early Days of Ezri Dax

by sapphose



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:20:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24555328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphose/pseuds/sapphose
Summary: Three very short drabbles about Ezri's early days adjusting to life with the Dax symbiont at Deep Space 9
Relationships: Ezri Dax & Benjamin Sisko, Julian Bashir & Ezri Dax
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16





	The Early Days of Ezri Dax

“So, let’s see what we can do to make your quarters more homey.” Julian briskly rubs his hands together. “What do you want first?”

“Um…” Ezri tries to mirror his confident posture. “Well, I need a space for exercising. And plenty of seating for when I throw a party, or if I host a tongo game, and a place to hang my-”

“Stop.” Julian gently lays a hand on Ezri’s shoulder. “That was Jadzia, wasn’t it?”

Ezri visibly deflates.

“Right.” She sighs. “And the piano I was going to suggest next is Joran.”

“We need to help you remember what’s _Ezri_. What did you have in your quarters on the last ship you served on?”

“Asking a question that vague doesn’t narrow it down,” Ezri says. “Jadzia, Curzon, Torias, and even Tobin all spent time on starships. You know, the Odan symbiont has never repeated a career. But Dax keeps ending up in space.”

Julian wants to get involved in a discussion about that- _what about the gymnast, and the politician? Is it rare or common for symbionts to exhibit patterns? Is there a record of Dax pre-warp?_ \- but the fascination makes him want to have them sit on a couch to talk about it, and that makes him remember why they’re here.

“The USS Destiny,” he reminds her. “Think specifically.”

“Right.” Ezri sighs again.

*******************

In the morning, Jadzia wasn’t awake until she had had at least one cup of raktaijino. If she was hungover, it took more like three. She liked to work out, as well- a wrestling match with Trajok, sparring with Worf, or physical exercises from Emony’s memories.

Astrid woke up early. She liked to make breakfast for Neema and Gran, pouring glasses of juice that would bring energy to the sleepy-eyed children padding out of their bedrooms in socks and slippers.

Lela read in the mornings. Sometimes she didn’t even get out of bed, not wanting to disturb Ahjess who had crawled in beside her, but needing to review the proposed legislation and meeting schedule for the day.

Ezri wakes up to the chirp of her alarm, and the sound of the computer playing her recorded message as requested: “It is 0700 hours. You are Counselor Ezri Dax. You are currently aboard the station Deep Space 9.” She listens to the whir of a replicator as her automated breakfast order shimmers into existence. Still half-asleep, it is too challenging to sort through the haze of lifetimes to remember what she wants to eat, so she has ordered the replicator to prepare the same thing every morning when her alarm goes off.

Ezri sits on the end of her bed to sip sweet tea from the mug held in two clenched hands.

“Ezri Dax,” she whispers to herself.

Not Tigan. Dax.

Not Lela, Tobin, Emony, Audrid, Torias, Joran, Curzon, or Jadzia. Ezri.

************

Deep Space 9 is the worst place Ezri could be.

The others aren’t joined Trill, so there isn’t the stigma of Reassociation. But they knew Jadzia, and maybe that’s worse, somehow. She can feel the hostility that radiates off of Worf, anger at her for being the wrong Dax. Even Julian’s friendliness and interest, she can’t trust. Is he just chasing the ghost of Jadzia, deep inside her?

Ezri can’t be Jadzia. She can’t be Dax. She can barely be Ezri.

It’s hard being in a place that she has so many _other_ memories of. At the end of the day, if she doesn’t repeat the habitat ring level and room number over and over under her breath, she finds herself standing at the threshold to Jadzia’s old quarters, instead of her own. She watches the wormhole through a porthole and her throat tightens and her chest burns as memories of the Defiant and the Dominion crash over her in waves.

But where else would she go, if not Deep Space 9?

She won’t go home to the Sappora System. Ezri joined Starfleet to get as far away from her family as possible. That hasn’t changed.

The Trill Symbiosis Commission would be happy to have her, but as a research project, studying the effects of emergency joining. Nobody on the homeworld would understand. So many Trill dream of being joined. Would they envy her for something she had never wanted? Would they resent her for wanting to give up what so many tried to get?

Anywhere else in Starfleet, they wouldn’t understand why she wakes up short of breath, sides heaving, as she remembers what it is like to die, seven times over, yet she can’t remember her replicator order or her favorite book or, at the worst of times, her own name.

At Deep Space 9, at least she can find Benjamin and sort through what is Curzon and what is Jadzia and what is her, putting the pieces of herself back together as he tosses a baseball from hand to hand and calls her “old man” in a low, soothing voice. At least the things that are familiar _should_ be familiar, because they are all hers now too, her friends, her home. At least they understand, because they are maybe the only people who can.

Deep Space 9 is the worst, and the best, and the only place Ezri could be.


End file.
